Home
by Evenstar1002
Summary: "Your heart aches. A little for you. But a lot more for him. And for everyone who now had to suffer from the consequences of your inability to talk about what you should have talked about on each and every single day of the past thirteen years." (Darvey, 8.16)


A/N: Waiting for the day that Darvey leaves my head so I can actually do something else on my days off than write and obsess :D This will definitely be my last take on the season finale though. I had this picture of Donna sitting at her old cubicle in my head when I woke up this morning… so there you go. Enjoy this little one shot and if you have time, I'd be forever grateful to hear what you think. xoxo N.

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Home

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The hallway is dark and empty as you slowly make your way from your old office to the only other place that still feels like it's yours even though it hadn't been for a very long time now. Your hand glides over the wall around the desk, the surface smooth and cold, as you make your way behind it. Your old chair squeaks as you pull it back, sitting down on it with a heavy heart. Your eyes slide over the personal pictures of the new assistant, over the dark computer screen and the rest of the table. You had guessed there would have been more of a disarray on the surface; believe that there should be more of a disarray considering the circumstances of the last couple of days but the desk is clean and organized and as tidy as it could be. Even cleaner and more organized than during all of the time that this table was yours. Your finger glides over the smooth surface, the coldness chasing a shiver down your spine. Your old chair crackles as you lean against the backrest.

Thirteen years. Thirteen long, intense years flash before your eyes. Pictures of him standing inside of that bar proudly, an aura of confidence and success illuminating his entire being as you approach him with a matching amount of confidence even though you were feeling anything but that. Pictures of your first day working at his desk, rearranging not only his calendar and coffee drinking habits but his entire life. Pictures of him, months later, standing at your door, a mischievous grin enlightening his face as you dangle the can of whipped cream in front of his eyes. Forbidden pictures of his lips against your neck, of his hips cradled between your legs, of sticky and sweaty bodies sliding against each other in the most ancient of rhythms. Pictures of you at the diner, agreeing to a lifetime by his side; maybe not in the way you had thought, imagined, hoped or dreamed of but by his side nonetheless. Pictures of you proudly walking down the hall right next to him, handing him coffees or taking his bagels, all gazes drawn to the power couple that you always had been. Pictures of you sitting right where you are sitting in this very moment, him behind your back, always only a breath away and still always too far away. Pictures of you teasing him and him flirting with you. Of him picking you up for breakfasts at Nougatine or dinners at Del Posto, that were never dates but still felt like that all the same. Pictures of _I love you_'s that meant exactly that but instead of bringing you together pushed you farther apart than you had ever been. Pictures of a kiss that made your heart soar for a second only to be crushed mere moments later. Pictures of him holding you, fingers splayed on each other's backs, dancing, swaying, _being_. So many pictures of moments where suppressed love turned into anger, eliciting fights that you never imagined you could have. And now this. How could it have come to _this_?

A sigh escapes your lips, disrupting the otherwise deafening silence of the fiftieth floor. The room in your back is dark and empty, devoid of all life and memories and you. A feeling of foreshadowing hangs heavy in the air; his record collection and the picture of his mother the only signs that it isn't over just yet.

Why had anyone ever thought, how had _you_ thought, that becoming the chief operating officer of now ZSLWW had ever been a wise idea? How could you have thought that you would be able handle the job when at the first opportunity you screw up so royally that it would now most likely cost the one person his job who had always believed and trusted that you _could_ indeed do that job. And for what? For a shot at happiness? When you knew perfectly well that happiness, true happiness, could only be found in one place; the one place that unfortunately hasn't been able to give it to you. Your heart aches. A little for you. But a lot more for him. And for everyone who now had to suffer from the consequences of your inability to talk about what you should have talked about on each and every single day of the past thirteen years. And now he might lose it all. Because of you.

Tears well behind closed eyes as fear and despair tug at you soul, your ribcage clenching your heart like a vise, it all making it so very, _very_ hard to breath. You try to hold them back, the tears that are forming behind your eyes, tears that you want no one to see but it's dark and you are alone anyway so maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't hurt to let one or two escape. The salty liquid leaves a warm trail on your cheek, and you catch it with the back of your hand, wiping it away.

"Donna?" It's a question and a praise, and it's a surprise and a relief. Your heart stops and speeds up all at once. You know he comes in peace by the way he pronounces your name, by the way he uses that soft timbre he only ever uses with you on rare occasions, like when _you are coming back to him_ or _when you lose faith in him after all the time you have been together_.

You watch him come closer, your heart constricting a little more. You wish there were words that could make all of this go away. The disappointment and uncertainty, the sadness and numbness. It's all there, in his eyes, as he gets closer with his gaze firmly fixed on you. His shoulders are slumped in defeat and the fact that you have never seen him quite like this, in all of the time you have been together, hurts you more than you believe you can handle. His normally poised steps falter as he closes the distance between you.

"Will you join me for one last drink in my office?" He smiles gently but it doesn't reach his eyes, nor can his words cover the sadness in his tone.

You nod and follow him quietly, your old chair squeaking some more as you push it back against the desk. He is already pouring the golden liquid into two glasses, as you sit down on the couch by the window front. He hands you the glass and instead of taking the chair, as he usually does, he sits down right next to you, sinking back against the backrest with a heavy sigh.

"Harvey, I'm… so sorry," you apologize for the umpteenth time in the last couple of days, just because you don't know what else you could possibly say to break the silence between you.

"It's okay, Donna. I've had it coming for years," he replies, waving it off with his free hand.

You look at him and you know he is truthful but it doesn't make it any better.

"Why aren't you with him right now?" He wants to know and for the first time since that thing with 'him' had started, Harvey doesn't hide the aversion in his voice.

"We broke up." You shrug your shoulders and are surprised that the admission doesn't hurt you more than it probably should but then again, you aren't surprised at all. Because it had been wrong. For a number of reasons it had been wrong from the very beginning. Ethically, but even more so morally.

"I'm sorry," he says, taking a sip of his Scotch. You watch him as he lets it swirl inside of his mouth, jaw muscles contracting with the movement. His gaze is on his hands, that are gently spinning the glass.

"Are you?" You ask at last, bringing his attention back to your face in the blink of an eye. His body is on alert, shoulders tensing in preparation for the answer to your inquiry. You don't expect an honest answer or at least not an answer that would for once actually convey something of substance, so when he opens his mouth next you actually are surprised what comes out.

"No, I guess I'm not."

You look at him, the truth of his words and his gaze too much to process. Something is different about him this night. You can't quite put your finger on in and it unsettles you and scares you but remember that in all of your years together, reading him had always been more difficult and this is no different.

"Because we wouldn't be in this mess if he didn't exist?"

"No, Donna. That's not why I'm not sorry and I think you know it."

You don't really know it and you don't know what to say either, which is not a first but maybe a third or a fourth. Under any other circumstance you might have pushed him for clarification but it feels like that would be for your own benefit and peace of mind and that is something you believe you don't deserve after having put Harvey in the situation he is in now.

"What, afraid to say it?" Harvey reads your mind, throwing your own words from days ago right back at you. There is a little spite in his voice but only to such an extent that you can still forgive him for it because you know that it hasn't been fair to throw them at him in the heat of an argument either.

Your heart starts pounding a little quicker in your chest, as you near the crossroads for a future that holds the power to gain it all or to destroy it all. Making up your mind before you have any time to talk yourself out of it or before he talks himself out of it, you pick the name of the street called 'truth'.

"No, I'm not, Harvey. But I wasn't aware that you are willing to talk about it all of a sudden." You hate that your voice sounds accusing and that it makes him flinch a little. Because in the end you haven't been any better in voicing what matters either so you ought to stop putting all of the blame on him.

"Yeah well, look where not talking about it has lead us. And I'm tired of it," Harvey says, before drowning the contents of his glass in one, big gulp. Nervousness takes a hold of you all of a sudden. When you came back to the firm earlier this evening, all you had planned on was sitting in your office and trying to find some peace in the solitude of your second home, that might not be your second home for much longer anymore. What you hadn't planned on was a confrontation with him, in the solitude of your second home, with the danger of losing him, your first home swinging above your head like the sword of Damocles. "I'm so tired, Donna. Of pretending that things are 'normal' between us and that I'm okay with seeing you in the arms of other men. I'm tired of being scared of losing you by telling you the truth when it feels like I'm about to lose you without telling you the truth anyway," Harvey sighs, sitting up straight and looking at you with a kind of look in his eyes that you have only seen maybe once or twice before. When he opens his mouth again, your heart stops. "And I'm fucking tired of pretending to not be madly in love with you when it's all I have ever been for the past thirteen years."

And just like that the truth is out. Spoken by Harvey as if it's the most obvious thing on the planet, like how one and one equals two or like how the earth revolves around the sun. And like it shouldn't even be a question and like all those obstacles and fears and stupidity that had kept them from being honest with each other in the past thirteen years had never existed.

"Harvey." His name leaves your lips in a whisper because you don't want to break the spell and you don't trust your voice to form any other word than the one you will remember even when everything else would be gone from your memory one day.

"I have bluffed and lied and pushed the boundaries of truth and ethics and the law more times than I can count in the past. It's why I deserve what's coming for me tomorrow and why I can live with the consequences," Harvey continues, his voice strong and convincing, leaving no doubt that he has already made his peace with whatever would happen tomorrow. He reaches for your hand and the contact of skin and warmth and strength has you weak and shivering in a matter of seconds and yet it calms a storm that has been raging inside of your soul for days and months and years. "But I love you, Donna. And that is the one _perpetual _truth of my life. I can't hide that anymore."

You know there should be an urge to ask if he is being serious or where all of this is coming from but you don't need to because his voice is soft again and his expression is open and honest and hopeful and after all the lies you have told each other time and again, you know that this is different. It takes everything in you to not just lunge yourself into his arms and to make him and yourself forget about the world. But you can't, for the life of you, find a single word to say because it's all too much and dreams you had buried are finally within reach.

"I know the timing sucks… with the final day of hearing and your break-up and everything… But I needed you to know," Harvey fills another silence. "I don't expect anything. You don't even have to say anything. I just… needed you to know."

You want to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. And at the same time you just want to cry your eyes out because you are finally here now, where you should have been all along. Thomas would never have happened and Harvey wouldn't be about to lose his job.

"God, I'm so sorry, Harvey… I feel like a complete fool." You know it isn't what you should be saying, isn't what you heart wants you to be saying but a wave of regret crashes over you, swirling you around and burying you under it with its breathtaking pressure. You can feel the tears, moments before they fill your eyes.

His hold on your hand tightens in comfort and understanding even though disappointment and sorrow shadow his face and it all is enough to make the tears spill after all.

"It's okay, Donna. Really. Like I said… I really don't expect anything from you… I know it took me forever to tell you the truth and that you've moved on but I-"

"What? No! No, Harvey… itt's… that's not…" Your heart stutters and more tears flow because the pain in his voice is almost killing you. "I'm sorry for letting you believe that I've moved on… when I knew in my heart that I never could. Thomas… he was just… a distraction. He gave me what I thought I could never get from the one person I always wanted the most. But the longing just got too much and I… it was stupid. And it put us and especially you in this impossible situation. And I'm just so _incredibly_ sorry." You bring your other hand to lie on top of your already entwined ones.

"Please, Donna. Stop crying. It's okay. Things have always been complicated and it's no one's fault that things are they way they are now. And if this it what it took for us to finally get it together, then so be it."

"But what about tomorrow?"

"What about it?"

"Aren't you scared?"

"Honestly? Not anymore, no." He squeezes your hand in reassurance and it does the intended trick. "Whatever is supposed to happen, will happen. But as long as we are together… and I hope that this is where it is headed and I'm not completely misreading the situation… then I don't care if they take my license or not. The world won't end because of it."

A small smile appears on your lips because in all the years, Harvey only seldomly has let you see his nervous and unconfident side, but the way he is sitting in front of you, holding your hand with a hopefully expression in his eyes, makes your heart leap and if you were only an ounce braver, you would just kiss him right then and there. But he speaks again and the moment is gone.

"What about you? Are you scared?"

"No… No, I'm not. There is still hope and I'm holding on to that. Because just like back then and just like every day, I have faith in you." The smile that spreads on his lips chases away the regret in your heart. "And whatever happens, we'll see it through together. Because, Harvey?" You pause for a moment but your heart is beating on for you to finally say it. "I love you, too."

This time it's him who doesn't know what to say and as you smile at him and he smiles at you everything that you have ever dreamed of is right there in his eyes. Warmth spreads through you and finally, _finally_ it feels like coming home.

"That means I can kiss you now, right?"

A chuckle escapes your lips but it's all the reply he needs and as his hand finds your cheek, his gaze intense and probing, the chuckle dies away as anticipation takes a hold of your entire being. His lips find yours in a gentle touch and it's very much like all the other kisses you shared in the past and nothing like them at all. Because for once, you both know where this would lead and you both want it just as much. Your heart drums against your chest and you are sure that he can hear how it's beating just for him. His lips are soft and warm and taste of Scotch and mint and him and it's all too much and not enough. Never enough. His hand tangles with the hair in your neck, his thumb drawing small circles on the sensitive skin behind your ear. It makes you shiver and sigh and shift a little closer, until your knee presses into his thigh. The contact is welcome, soothing a need that has always been there and exponentiating it all at once. You sigh against his lips, moments before his tongue finds yours, the touch igniting something within you.

The kiss isn't a ride on the rollercoaster and it isn't bungee jumping or fireworks. It's gentle waves of peace and warmth and comfort. It's starts a slow fire in your heart that spreads with soft breaths of oxygen throughout your whole body. Passion and desperation don't come like a tsunami wave washing over you but gently, like the turning of tides, a little more with every minute that passes and then as powerful and all encompassing as any other force of nature. You gasp for air, hold on to his neck like to the anchor that he has always been and questions and uncertainties and doubts dissolve on the ground of the ocean.

You break apart after minutes or hours, deep sighs and heavy breaths filling the air.

"Harvey?"

His dark eyes find you. "Yes?"

"Let's go home."

A smile, a real smile, brighter and wider than you have seen it in a very long time, spreads on his face. He gets up from the sofa, holding his hand out to you to help you stand on wobbly legs, before you entwine your fingers, leaving the office to go _home_ together at last.

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\- The End -


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